


happy birthday

by blackmarketblood



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmarketblood/pseuds/blackmarketblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke hated her birthday this year. That is, until Isabela unexpectedly turned up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I wrote for my friend's birthday! It's a part of modern/coffeeshop AU we were talking about (and which I'm totally going to write). 
> 
> All the kudos to Marta for being my beta, even though Dragon Age is not her fandom. 
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance!

Hawke used to love her birthdays.

It used to be her favourite day of the year back when her Dad was alive. It would start with waffles for breakfast (the smell of the first one getting burned would always wake her up, grinning and already happy), followed by a trip to the beach, or the theme park, or the cinema, or a concert (one time, when she was sixteen and therefore going through the compulsory emo phase, he managed to get her tickets to a sold-out concert of her favourite band; arguably the best birthday _ever_ ), or the aquarium, or anywhere. It didn't matter as long as they were all together, Marian and Dad and Mum and later Bethany and Carver. Because for all of her birthdays, the strongest memories were of laughter, love and sunshine.

There were certain perks to be born in June, after all.

She hated her birthday this year.

It's been a couple of years since they've stopped with the big family celebrations she was so used to in her childhood years. She still missed them. A wave of sadness washed over her every morning of her birthday, when she woke up and didn't smell burnt waffles. But then it passed (some days more swiftly than others) and there would always be Bethany, ready to take her on a trip or Varric eager to make her day a special one.

This year's birthday was set out to be worst of them all and she was pretty sure it was to make up for all the amazing birthdays in her life. It seemed as if the Maker himself decided she had too much fun and deserved to live through the suckiest birthday ever.

As she was wallowing in her sadness, Hawke blew her nose loudly enough that Dog ran into her bedroom in panic. He observed Hawke eagerly, trying to determine if she was in any immediate danger.

"Don't worry, pal," muttered Hawke as she fell back to her pillows. "I only feel like I'm going to die."

///

What happened was this: Hawke got sick.

In June, people are usually more prepared for heatwaves than a week of cold rain and wind strong enough to blow your hat off in November. Hawke wasn't any different from People and therefore didn't think it important enough to wear her favourite scarf (red cashmere, a gift from her dad on her 18th birthday; it was the last gift he ever gave her). Who wears a scarf in June, right? Sensible people, as it turned out.

So here she was: her nose so stuffed she couldn't breathe but surprisingly not stuffed enough to stop leaking snot; headache not so terrible, but just the wrong side of awfully annoying, and possibly a fever. She wasn't sure about the latter as it would require her to get out of bed and rummage through her medicine cabinet to get a thermometer and it does go without saying how she felt about the prospect of that.

Someone would need to take Dog for a walk, though. She let out a low groan when she remembered that and buried herself deeper under the blanket. Then she peeked out -- just the tiniest bit -- and observed Dog. He seemed to share her unwillingness to go outside where it was pouring -- again.

"I'm glad we agree, pal."

Dog barked softly and jumped onto her bed. He curled up next to Hawke and nuzzled his head under her arm.

"I should have trained you better so you could make me tea and take care of me," said Hawke, to which Dog gave her an offended look. "But of course, this is better, anyway." Hawke laughed, or she tried to laugh but started violently coughing instead.

After her coughing fit calmed down -- it took a minute or two -- she wondered who she would call to at least bring her some cough syrup and cold medicine. She figured she would need to get up from bed sooner or later, but she was in no shape to venture in the post-apocalyptic downpour outside. She checked a mental list of possible victims: Bethany was out of town with her college friends to do research for her dissertation; Isabela was on one of her famous adventures and would not return before next week; Anders was out of town as well, participating in some protest or another; Merrill was busy with her exams; Aveline was most likely at work, buried in paperwork; Varric was away on some family business.

That was just another amazing aspect of this year's birthday -- everyone seemed to have forgotten about it. Hawke felt a little pang her in her phlegm-filled chest. She hugged Dog a little tighter. "At least you didn't forget, right pal?"

Dog was warm like a dog-sized heater and it didn't take long for Hawke to fall asleep.

///

She woke up with a start. There was someone next to her bed, looming over her. It took her eyes a while to adjust.

"Well, good morning to you, Sleeping Beauty."

"Isabela?"

"The one and only," grinned Isabela. "You know what; I take the Sleepy Beauty part back. You look like shit."

Hawke decide to ignore that, for now. "What are you doing here? The last time I heard from you, you were in--"

"-- Antiva and had no intention to come back soon, yeah. But what can I say? I missed you." Isabela placed a steamy mug on her nightstand. "But looking at you now, I probably shouldn't have been in such hurry. Just kidding, just _kidding_ ," she added quickly after she heard Hawke growl at her. "It's so easy to pick on sick people, it's not my fault."

Hawke still just stared at her -- her eyes rather unfocused --, too sick to really process Isabela being in her bedroom. Being in her bedroom again, after two weeks.

"But I meant that. That I missed you," added Isabela, her voice soft now.

Hawke missed her too. They've been hooking up for the past couple of months, here and there, between Isabela's travels, no feelings attached. Or so they told themselves.

"I'm glad you showed up. And," Hawke couldn't help but grin, "your timing couldn't be better."

Isabela laughed. "I'd kiss you if you weren't so gross right now. There's snot on your blanket."

///

As it turned out, Hawke blacked out for most of the morning. When Isabela let herself in and saw used tissues scattered around Hawke's bed -- and virtually all across her apartment --, she went to get some medicine (and after peeking into the fridge, groceries too).

So now she was spoon-feeding Hawke cough syrup as if she was five.

"Drink this." Isabela handed Hawke the mug from her nightstand. "You'll feel better."

Hawke obediently took a sip. She suspected it was supposed to be tea, but there was so much lemon she couldn't taste anything but sour lemon. She made a face. "Are you trying to kill me? I thought you said this was supposed to make me feel better. I lost all feeling in my tongue."

"If only, maybe then you'd stop complaining so much. Drink it up."

Hawke drank the rest of the tea without any more complaints. It got a lot better after she got used to the taste and she was pretty sure she could feel the sour lemon killing all the germs in her throat. Not that she would admit that to Isabela, although she seemed like she knew.

"Good girl." Isabela gave Hawke a kiss on her forehead (most likely the least gross part of her face) and went to the kitchen to check on the chicken soup.

Hawke was really impressed. Who would have thought that Isabela -- of all people -- would turn up and take care of her as if she were a little kid. And out of nowhere, at that. She started to suspect this must have been a birthday miracle.

She heard the clatter in the kitchen and then footsteps as Isabela returned to her bedroom.

"It'll be ready soon," Isabela said as she climbed into the bed. There was barely enough place with Hawke and Dog there, so she scooted close to Hawke. To make herself comfortable she put her left hand around Hawke's shoulders. Hawke readjusted herself and leaned into Isabela.

"I thought I was too gross."

Isabela laughed, a short laugh but genuine. "You are. But you also look really pathetic and sad. So I'm offering my arm and bosom to make you feel better."

Hawke wanted to laugh but sneezed instead. "I appreciate it because yeah, it's really nice." She moved lower so she could rest her head on Isabela's bust and hugged her around her torso with her free arm. "I still feel like Death herself, but I could die like this happily. Face buried in your boobs. What a lovely way to go."

Isabela laughed. Hawke could feel her laugh vibrating inside Isa's chest under her head.

"You know, that sore throat makes your voice really sexy. If you weren't so--"

"-- gross, you would kiss me. Yeah, I know."

"I wasn't going to say kiss, but have it as you wish." She patted Hawke's shoulder. "Come on, girl, let me out. It's soup time."

///

Hawke could feel the warmth spreading through her body with the first spoonful.

"Grandma's recipe. Cures every cold after just one bowl." Isabela was again sitting next to her.

"It's delicious!" Hawke said after she gulped down another spoonful.  "If I knew you could cook so well, I would make you cook me dinner at least once."

"Whoa, slow down. It's about the only meal I can cook."

"Either way, your Gran was onto something. I haven't even finished the bowl and I already feel like maybe not dying."

Isabela smiled.

///

The pile of used tissues next to bed was dangerously growing in size. Isabela watched Hawke throw another one to what looked more like a mountain than the pile of snot and paper.

"The ability to breathe is incredibly underappreciated," proclaimed Hawke.

"I'm pretty sure everyone appreciates being able to breathe." She was posing as Hawke's pillow of sorts again and absentmindedly drawing circles on her shoulder. "Though I'm sure as hell enjoying it more when you wheeze next to me. Sorry, couldn't resist again." She kissed Hawke on top of head.

They were silent for a moment. Well, except for Hawke's little coughs here and there and the occasional sneeze.

"Thank you, Isa."

There was silence again. It was one of those moments when Hawke started to doubt if she even said something and wondered if she maybe should say it again. She opened her mouth to repeat it when she suddenly felt Isabela's lips on hers.

The kiss was rather unexpected so she didn't immediately return it. She kissed Isabela back, enjoying how familiar the kiss felt and realized how much she missed it. Slowly, she broke it, only to give Isabela a quick peck.

"What if you get sick next?" she asked, whispering for some reason.

Isabela rubbed her nose against Hawke's and leaned closer, so their lips slightly touched. "Then you'll have to take care of me." Hawke could feel the smirk on her lips.

Hawke placed her hand on Isabela's neck, pulling her closer and kissing her again. More passionate now, hungrily even. By the time Isabela broke the kiss, they were both gasping for breath (Hawke a little more so). There was something in her eyes and Hawke couldn't help but smile. She felt Isabela's hand on her thigh.

"You know, maybe you're not so gross after all."

And Hawke thought that maybe this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all.


End file.
